Page 8 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

‘I’d be after thanking you for last night,’ she said. Her accent had a musical lilt that didn’t match the sharp edges of Scandinavia, or the casual sway of the US. ‘You... Well, you saved my life.’

The flush fired across her collarbone and made him notice the fascinating sprinkle of freckles there—and the rise and fall of her breasts under the baggy sweatshirt.

He gave a stiff nod. He didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted her gone.

‘You... You never told me your name,’ she asked, as if she didn’t know.

She was a good actress, he’d give her that, the curious light in her gaze almost credible. But he only became more annoyed when he noticed that the vivid green of her irises matched the deep striking emerald of the aurora borealis.

‘Logan Colton,’ he said, knowing he was not giving anything away that she didn’t already know.

‘Logan...? Colt...?’

Her eyebrows launched up her forehead, then her head whipped around, taking in the beamed ceiling, the huge open-plan space where he lived and which he had built on the footprint of his grandfather’s old home.

‘You’re the billionaire recluse... This is it. The Fortress of Solitude... Of course,’ she whispered, her voice low with either awe or astonishment, it was hard to tell. But then it hardly mattered, because this was no doubt an act for his benefit. ‘You’re the guy they talk about. You actuallyexist?’ She gaped at him, and he realised she was worthy of an award—either that or she was not as smart as the fierce intelligence in her eyes suggested. ‘I thought for sure that was a myth. Or a fairy tale.’

A fairy tale? Seriously?

He bristled. He didn’t know any fairy tales. But what he did know was they were fanciful nonsense designed to scare young children. And he had never been a child. Or scared of imaginary things. Because he knew exactly what terrors real life could hold.

Rain, endless rain, pounding down onto the dirty pavement. The scent of blood filling his nostrils, the cold dead weight pushing him into the filthy ground. His mother’s broken screams. The pop of bullets like party balloons bursting. The fear clawing at his throat, making his heart rate accelerate to bursting...

He closed his eyes briefly to shove away the visions pushing into his consciousness again for the first time in years...

‘Monsters exist, Arto. And they all take human form.’

His grandfather’s voice eased the pain in his chest and pushed the worst of the memories back into the darkness, where they belonged.

‘I’m sure I would have figured it out a lot sooner if I hadn’t been so exhausted last night.’ Her musical accent drew him sharply back to the present.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and gave a small shudder as if the memory of her ordeal disturbed her.

‘Do you really live here all alone, then?’ she asked, changing the subject. But then her eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure that’s not my business at all. I talk too much.’

Two things they could agree on.

‘You’re not a big talker, are you?’ she added. ‘Even for a Finnish person.’

Apparently, she was more observant than she appeared. But again, that was not a surprise—given that she was probably a journalist.

Her stomach made a loud growling sound, reminding him she hadn’t eaten yet today.

He let his gaze drift down her frame, annoyed when it lingered on the soft swell of her breasts beneath his old sweatshirt again.

He forced his gaze back to her flushed face, angry he had let himself get sucked into that response again. He didn’t need human contact, and that must include women. He had convinced himself long ago his hand would do if he needed relief.

But having her in his home was distracting. And aggravating, for more than one reason. Already she was testing the boundaries he had made himself live by. And he hated that even more than the predatory reason for her intrusion into his home.

‘There is food, help yourself,’ he said, suddenly desperate to be somewhere she was not. His response to her would surely fade if he was not near her.

But as he walked past her, heading back towards his workshop, she reached out and touched his bare arm.

He was so shocked by the unsolicited contact, he flinched.

She dropped her hand instantly, but the ripple of sensation still buzzed across his senses in a way that only disturbed him more.

‘I’m sorry...’ she murmured.

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